Remnants
by Eclipse1234
Summary: Follow the journey as Harry Potter navigates the treacherous world of the Seven Kingdoms, from the fall of the Targaryen rule to the current canon.
1. Chapter 1

AN: A brief starting chapter to give some idea of what is to come. I do not own Harry Potter of Game of Thrones. Will only be continued if there is sufficient interest.

Chapter 1

He swept through the halls of the Red Keep, the hem of his black cloak trailing behind him, brushing against the cold stone hewn floors. Finally arriving at the throne room, he was announced by a guard and strode up to the Iron Throne before kneeling quickly.

"My King, I have arrived with your weekly medicine."

King Aerys II Targaryen looked up from the table in front of him, strewn with maps of the kingdom and statuettes symbolising army placements. His harrowed bloodshot eyes briefly reflected the firelight on the ensconced torches before they focused on the royal healer, and he waved him forward. The seven other men at the table, the Kingsguard, looked on impassively.

The king's scratchy voice sounded out. "Ah, you've arrived Maester Potter. Your skills have been much need. My fevered dreams visit me nightly, and these accursed headaches plague me endlessly. Your miraculous potions are my only reprieve."

Harry Potter nodded curtly before reaching into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a gilded flask filled with swirling fluid the colour of blood.

"Of course, my king. This is freshly brewed, maximum strength as you requested."

Seizing it, the king wrenched the sealed cork out with his teeth before downing the entire contents with a single swig. He face contorted into a rictus of agony, before the tremors that wracked his body abruptly subsided and he visibly relaxed.

Through gritted teeth he remarked in a weary voice,

"Truly, your creations are a masterpiece in paradox. They taste like death itself and seize the body in unimaginable pain, before giving way to an utter relief."

Harry inclined his head, the flickering firelight from the wall mounted braziers casting wild shadows upon his face. Eyes hidden by his hair, he replied,

"I am humbled by your generous compliments, my king. I live to serve."

King Targaryen grinned, showing his yellowed teeth and revealing the formerly handsome face that had given way to the ravages of time and madness.

Gesturing with his hand, he announced,

"It is best that I rest now. You are all dismissed. Kingsguard, report again to me at sunrise."

Bowing, all the men filed out of the throne room, leaving the king reclining on the Iron Throne, gazing absently at his claw like hands.

Branching off as they headed to their respective rooms, Harry proceeded towards his personal tower. He had always felt more secure being in a position of height. After the King had heard his story of how fumes must be expelled directly as high up as possible to prevent poisoning from the gas, he had received his request for the topmost room in the Red Keep.

The youngest Kingsguard trailed after him, before calling out.

"You know, it's amazing to me how you can face the King with such smiles and politeness only to turn your back and immediately scowl as if someone had pissed on your doorstep."

Harry continued to ascend the staircase, his gnarled wooden staff tapping along the stone steps.

"Bugger off Jaime. And it's called professionalism. I do not allow my personal feelings to get in the way of doing my job. I brew and heal. Whoever the recipient of my care is should not matter.

Jaime smirked, still following behind him

"Ah, but if you truly did not care, then surely there would be no need for such a thunderous scowl?"

Harry did not reply as he tapped the heavy oaken door to his room with his staff and opened it, sighing as he sat own on a tall stool. Jaime claimed the one opposite to him.

Resting the staff on a corner of his desk, he took a brief moment to stir the bubbling cauldron hanging above his fireplace before turning back to his impromptu guest.

"What about you then, Ser Hypocrite? You are a Kingsguard, the pinnacle of devotion to our majesty. And yet you despise him nearly as much as I do."

Jaime's expression sobered, his eyes quickly darting towards the entryway.

Noting his concern, Harry waved his betrayed gaze away.

"Do not fret so, you utter woman. None can hear us through my door."

Jaime glowered at his friend before subsiding.

"So I have no lost love for the King either, it is true. His insanity grows daily, and is only barely held in check by your potions. In fact, I suspect that the Seven Kingdoms owes much to you for sparing them from the king's mad vengeance. Soon, I fear even that may not be enough."

Harry nodded, his brows furrowed as he took in his friends appearance. Jaime had got up out of his seat as he spoke and began pacing back and forth in the room, his hands clenching and unclenching of their own volition. He spoke up.

"And yet, there is little we can do. Open rebellion will only lead the kingdom into chaos. The web of allegiances is too treacherous, there could be little unified front as long as the Lords continue to bicker amongst one another for scraps of land. And in the wake of a war, the people would suffer. You know as well as I do that the so called knights have little in the manner of restraint or mercy when it comes to sacking cities."

Jaime took in the words with a heavy heart, knowing that Harry was right. He mused out loud,

"I had hoped, as I believe much of the kingdom had, that the son would succeed the father and rule under a just banner. But increasingly that grows more unlikely. It seems that the apple did not fall too far from the tree. From within, the seeds of madness fester anew."

Harry nodded, turning back towards his potion which was filling the room with the smell of fresh cut grass and mint, an ironically out of place fragrance for their topic of conversation. He briefly toyed with the heavy ring on his left hand, the cracked black stone glimmering dully in the poor light.

"It seems that one way or another, there will be strife to come in the days ahead for the Seven Kingdoms.

With those ominous words, the two friends bid each other goodnight.

(Scene Break)


	2. Chapter 2

Harry's brows furrowed as he perceived someone rapidly ascending the steps towards his room. He only had enough time to take up his staff before Jaime blew in, the door smashing open behind him.

'What the hell-?'

He had never seen the man so agitated. His face was a sickly looking grey and he held an expression that was of equal parts horror and disgust.

Jaime swallowed thickly before speaking with a hoarse voice.

"He…he raped her. And I could do _nothing_. Nothing!"

He took a deep swig from the bottle that he held in his hand before throwing it with a yell. Harry's eyes zeroed in on the projectile, his prodigious reaction time allowing him to snatch it from the air before it smashed against the jagged stone walls and showered them with a million fragments of glass.

Harry's deadpan tone belied the deadly serious expression on his face as he set the bottle down after taking a whiff. A pungent alcoholic smell came from the bottle.

"I can see you are upset, but please refrain from expressing your frustrations upon my room. You see, I work and sleep here."

Jaime rounded on him with a glare, his gauntleted hand smashing against the wall.

"How can you- _jest _in a time like this?!"

Harry matched his gaze evenly.

"Simple. You have not seen fit to inform me of what has befallen you to land you in such a state. So calm yourself and enlighten me, or leave and desist from destroying my room. Here, have yourself some tea."

Jaime looked at the cup and saucer that was shoved under his nose incredulously, seeming to war with himself over whether to smash aside the delicate china being offered to him. Finally, he reached up with trembling hands and took the cup, taking a single sip.

His eyes widened, and he visibly calmed.

"Good tea." He murmured as he stared down at his drink.

"Thank you. Now, tell me what has happened."

So Jaime recounted his story, and Harry's face darkened with each passing word.

As Jaime finished telling the horrifying tale of how King Aerys had savaged his own wife/ sister after watching a traitor being burned alive, Harry stood up, beginning to retrieve various ingredients from around his room with an air of efficient determination.

"Nothing can be done to correct atrocities already committed. All we can do is deal with the aftermath." Harry tried to sooth his friend's conscience.

"What will you do?" Jaime countered.

"I am a Maester. My job is to heal. So that I what I will do."

"And if this happens again?"

"I will not. I have underestimated the extent of Aerys's madness. Clearly, I will have to step up my plans."

At that, Jaime recovered from the haze that the calming tea had in a heartbeat. His narrowed eyes followed Harry, who he knew was far more than he appeared, around the room.

It was only a year ago when he had realized that his reclusive friend who lived in the tower was clearly anything but a naïve and innocent Maester.

(Flashback)

_Jaime had cracked open the door to Harry's room, after receiving no reply to his knocks._

_"__Harry?"_

_Casting his gaze around, he realized that there was no one else present. Deciding to settle down and wait for his friend of only a few months to arrive, he accidentally reclined too far back on his spindly legged stool, and nearly pitched over. _

_Arms flailing to recover his balance, he grabbed an unlit wall bracket to right himself, when it gave away in his grasp._

_As he pulled the bracket down, a low rumbling sound filled the room. After catching his breath at the near blunder (he was usually much more composed than this) he investigated the torch in his hand, which upon closer inspection was clearly a switch of some sort._

_A short search of the room revealed a small alcove behind a generic banner on the wall. In it, Jaime found only a single huge leather-bound tome._

_Withdrawing it carefully and making sure to memorize the position it was in so he could replace it without suspicion later, Jaime opened up the well-worn cover to take a look inside, flipping to a random page. What could his friend be hiding?_

_'__Maester Daywin: Lord Hoster Tully remains ill, but his weekly visits seem to help him greatly. The concoction you provided works wonders. Lord Tully is still considerably distraught over having lost his wife. His primary concern is now to ensure the future of his children. Upon further urging, I discovered that he intends to forge a political alliance with House Stark through marriage. Initial negotiations are promising, according to him.'_

_Breathing rapidly, Jaime flipped through the book with increasing fervor._

_'__Maester Garut: Lord Stark entertains an alliance with house Tully, but is unsure as to …'_

_'__Maester Faust: Prince Rhaegar Targaryen continues to complain of slight headaches, and the potion serves only to stay the effects, not cure them. Understandably, he is becoming more distant with his family due to his pain…'_

_"__You know, it's rude to snoop through other people's things."_

_Jaime whirled around, his sword a silver flash in the air as it struck down the foe that had snuck up on him._

_Or it would have, if a responding hiss of steel on lacquer had not responded. _

_With speed that had Jaime breathless, Harry drew a blade from within his robes and parried the strike. Glinting rubies set into a golden gilt hilt shone in the afternoon sun like droplets of blood. Eyes like two icy chips of emerald stared back at him._

_Just as quickly, Harry sheathed his blade, the most beautiful sword Jaime had ever seen disappearing back into his robes. Turning his back, Harry set to fixing his customary cup of tea._

_"__I see you have stumbled upon my correspondences."_

_Jaime gaped at him. In that instant, Harry who normally seemed so short statured had straightened into a defiant man, his weak thin body became a lithe frame, and a modest Maester had become a knight. And just as suddenly, he had returned back to the appearance of a regular Maester, tending to his kettle. _

_"__You're…you are a spymaster? __**You**__?"_

_Harry smirked, his green eyes twinkling in amusement._

_"__There are three things that loosen any tongue. Greed, lust, and fear."_

_He passed the cup of tea over, which Jaime ignored as he continued to point his sword at the man who he thought he knew so well._

_Harry paused and set the cup on the table beside him before continuing._

_"__I have not the coin to incite greed, and do not control the pleasure houses to promote lust. But __**fear**__, I can broker in abundance. What man fears most is death. The most insidious of killers is the one that they cannot see, and therefore cannot fight. When the murderer known as disease arrives at their doorstep, they __**fear**__. And in their fear they are willing to offer up any information that may be even slightly relevant to help the Maesters heal them."_

_Harry turned again, sitting on his chair with a sigh and taking of sip from the cup._

_"__So, I took that readily available source of information and made it my own. Surely you know more than anyone that there are major players amassing their power and influence in the wake of the uncertainty around the current king. When the conflict inevitably erupts, I intend to be ready for it while others are left reeling."_

_Jaime searched Harry's face for any sign of deceit, finding none._

_"__To what end, Potter? Do you wish to be a lord? King?"_

_"__My intentions lie with the wellbeing of Westeros." Harry ignored Jaime's scoff and continued._

_"__I intend to see the Seven Kingdoms flourish. No matter the cost." _

_"__What of me? What role will I play in your plots? What role will the House of Lannister play?" Jaime's tone was light, but his gaze was steely._

_Harry held out a hand. "Stay your fears. We are not enemies, and I have nothing against the Lannisters. So long as you also have the best intentions for Westeros you can stay your fears."_

_"__And should that even change?"_

_Harry's face became inscrutable. _

_"__You will know."_

_As Jaime left later that night he was unaware when Harry smiled secretly to himself, assured that the decision to reveal his information network to Jaime panned out well._

(Flashback End)

Jaime shook himself out of his reverie to realize that Harry had already put together a basket of slaves and balms.

"You intend to go to the Queen?" He asked carefully.

Harry nodded. "I'll tend to her on the morrow."

As Jaime descended the spiral staircase down to his own quarters, his mind was whirling. The horror of the events he had seen was banished from his mind by the implication that Harry intended to further his plans. He would need to watch his friend even more closely in the days ahead.


End file.
